


Very, Very Cherry

by padawanhilary, Telesilla



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: First Time First Kiss, M/M, Rimming, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-06-02
Updated: 2003-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padawanhilary/pseuds/padawanhilary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla





	Very, Very Cherry

Ewan doesn't dance.

He'll watch. He'll sway a little. He'll move just enough to get some pretty thing, whichever sex, whatever orientation, to come to him and ask him to dance. When he demurs, he always throws in, "We could skip all that and just go back to my flat." This time, that's not going to fly. He knows it. And it's pissing him off.

The reason it's pissing him off is because Orlando's already dancing. He doesn't care if he has a partner and he isn't about to ask Ewan to dance. Ewan takes another sip of his Guinness and sighs. For once, he's found someone he wants who very likely doesn't want him back. That's a real pisser.

Orlando is having a very good time, practically ecstatic. His portion of filming is over -- not much sand, thankfully, just sweaty, bulky, overheating uniforms, and vests, and heavy guns, and so much other shite required to be lugged from here to there and back again. But it's over now, and he's been asked to stay put a few days in case of reshoots, which he has taken as a green light to party his nights away just so long as he checks his voicemail every so often. The club is rocking, good good dance-trance thrumming out past the doors and onto the sidewalk, and he doesn't think it can get much better than this, just grooving to a good beat and utterly carefree.

Ewan sits. He really doesn't want anyone to bother with tonight, he decides in a momentary fit of sour grapes. He can just sit here and watch Orli move. Fuck. That's a pasttime all on its own.

There is a break in the music -- a _break_, but hell, Orlando figures no DJ's _perfect_ \-- and he leans back against a wall for a moment, catching his breath, waiting for the new tune to move him. He catches sight of Ewan seated at a table and waves at him happily.

Raising his glass, Ewan nods, flashing a vivid grin. Ah, fuck, it's no good. He really, really wants to get inside Orlando's trousers. He gets up and begins to make his way over, hoping he can get there before Orlando decides to get up and dance again.

Orlando's just bumping his ass back against the wall, not really recovered enough to jump into another big dance but wanting the connection with the music nonetheless. He sees Ewan coming, though, and that revives him some. He gives Ewan a big, cheeky grin, waiting for him to come within earshot.

"Hey," Ewan yells when he gets there. "Get you a pint?" He holds up his glass in illustration.

Orlando shakes his head; he had two, and that's enough to get him buzzing just right. "No thanks," he yells back. "Wanna dance?"

"Oh, no," Ewan laughs. "Well--" Fuck. Ewan doesn't dance. It doesn't mean he _can't._ "Sure. Yeah, alright." He sets his pint down against the wall, mentally kissing it goodbye, and then catches Orlando's hand. _I've gone fucking daft,_ he sighs inwardly, and pulls Orlando out to the floor.

Orlando grins irrepressibly. Just when the night didn't seem like it could get any better, here's a friend to enjoy it with -- perfect. The music thumping out of the speakers is a club anthem, something Orlando could recite backwards, and he sings along slightly off-tune as he bounces around, clinging to Ewan's hand.

Well, now he's stuck. Ewan dances, but it's been years. He doesn't have near the moves Orlando does--does anyone? But he moves, nevertheless.

_Fuck it,_ he sighs to himself, and catches Orlando around the waist, hugging him close. He knows just enough to make this work--there. Suddenly they're fitted together, legs tucked between each other's and hips grinding. Ewan finds he quite likes the startled look on Orlando's face.

The startled look quickly morphs into another giant grin. "The way you hung about at the edges, I thought you didn't know how!" Orlando laughs, wrapping his arms around Ewan's neck and continuing to undulate just as ecstatically as he was alone. He's done this before; it's what you do in dance clubs. It doesn't mean anything. Well...it doesn't normally happen with other men. But it does sometimes, and it doesn't mean anything. Orlando reminds himself that he is a young boy in a new country with new Hollywood rules, and everybody's probably a lot less uptight around here -- which is good.

_Oh, God,_ Ewan groans, and he's afraid -- no, not afraid, why be afraid of a foregone conclusion?--He's gonna get hard. He's gonna be grinding on Orlando when he does. He's gonna be madly, ragingly fucking randy by the time Orlando pulls back, and the beer is kicking in. How many did he have? His head is spinning now. He looks at Orlando, bouncing in the flickering, neon light. Then he looks at Orlando's mouth. He cups a hand around the back of Orlando's neck. His mind is screaming _What the fuck are you on about?_ and his cock is screaming louder _What the fuck are you waiting for?_ The hand at the back of Orlando's neck is working of its own volition, stroking and petting.

_...okay..._ Orlando thinks, a little less cocky about this whole open-Hollywood thing. There's nothing he can do about it, though -- he can't respond in kind, because he doesn't know what that is, and he doesn't want to just leave the whole thing just because he's confused, so he just keeps on, bouncing around like he was before Ewan put his hand there, though he's watching Ewan a little more closely now, trying to learn the rules.

God. Ewan's going to do it. He can see himself leaning forward, tugging Orlando in, opening his mouth slightly and pressing his lips to those pretty, perfect ones -- it's all so much internal shite until he realizes he's doing it. Orlando tastes like cheap American beer and second-hand smoke. He smells like some kind of faint, sharp cologne. And oh. Holy fucking _God_, he feels like heaven.

Orlando's eyes are wide as the proverbial saucers as he pulls away. His mouth works, but nothing comes out; people have joshed him before about getting hit on by movie people, but it simply hasn't _happened_ before, and he's completely, utterly nonplussed.

"Sorry," Ewan grins, really not very. He loosens his hold on Orlando and continues to dance.

Orlando blinks, and finally a startled laugh makes its way out. It felt _good_, that kiss, and he needs to repair the pulling away, so he throws himself into the melee again as is his tendency. "That was bloody brilliant!" he yells, laughing, and throws his arms around Ewan's neck again, giving him sloppy, noisy, comical kisses all up and down the side of his throat.

"Yeah?" Ewan laughs, and look out -- there's no stopping him now. He grabs Orlando's head and looks at him a moment. He wishes Orlando would hold still, but it doesn't matter, really. He pulls Orlando in again and kisses him once more, this time hard, pushing Orli's lips apart with his, thrusting his tongue.

"Aaaah!" Orlando squeals theatrically, squirming away. "Bloody wanker," he laughs, wiping his mouth, "attacking me like this in front of all these witnesses!" The blood has risen to his face. And the blood has risen to other places.

Ewan grins with something that looks like demonic possession. He steps close again and hooks his arm around Orlando's waist, holding him tightly and leaning over to growl into his ear, "Want to go away from the witnesses?"

"Have you gone mad, Mr. McGregor?" Orlando laughs, and vaguely he realizes that he's no longer deflecting with humor because it's what he does, he's deflecting with humor because it's _fun_, Ewan pursuing him like this, and he doesn't want it to stop.

"Completely," Ewan agrees, grinning broadly.

"Well then. Where is it that we're going?" Orlando grins back. He's not quite sure, yet, just what Ewan's doing, and he suspects there might be some mutual chain-yanking going on here, but it's all good.

"My room," Ewan grins lewdly, and grinds forward again. "Or yours. I'm not picky." Orlando's practically glowing, that huge grin lighting up his face, and he looks so good... so smooth... Ewan wants to lean forward and lick his neck, right along the artery, knowing there's got to be blood from it on the way round to his cock.

"Alright," Orlando agrees, still grinning. "Lead the way, then."

_Bloody hell,_ Ewan thinks, startled. "Alright," he says, and grabs Orlando's hand. He tugs the boy through the crowd, darting in and out, laughing a little. Beer's forgotten, all that matters now is getting them back to--Ewan's room, he decides. Fuck, and an image comes to his head of shoving Orlando, laughing, backwards onto the bed, and jumping him. He adjusts himself in his jeans and leans on the bar to the industrial metal door, opening it with a thunk and stepping out into the air.

Orlando hops out, immediately wrapping his arms around himself. "Cold," he tells Ewan, and even that's worth a grin. It's not freezing, but it's definitely cooler than when he went in. "What are you going to do with me?" he asks cheekily, looking up into Ewan's eyes.

"Dunno yet," Ewan says, and lights a cigarette, offering one to Orlando. "Been thinking about it too long to know what to do now."

"Bollocks," Orlando laughs, accepting the cigarette. "Ewan McGregor, hiding away in his room at night, hoping I will come out to play? I think not!"

Ewan laughs. "Never said I was hiding!" He lights Orli up and tucks the lighter away, smoking for a few steps and wondering what to say next to ensure Orlando will end up in his bed. Or against his wall. Or fuck, in the loo. He's still not picky.

Orlando follows simply, not at all concerned with those kinds of questions. "Your cigs are terrible," he tells Ewan, though he keeps smoking.

"Yeah. Bloody awful," Ewan agrees serenely, smoking away. "Ever snogged a bloke?"

A little taken aback by the question, Orlando just stares with his mouth open for a few seconds. "Sure, lots," he chirps after a moment. "For fun, d'you mean?"

Faintly disbelieving, Ewan turns and looks at Orlando as they near the hotel, eyebrows pinched together and mouth grinning. "...Why else would you?"

"Well, ah, you know. Some blokes take their snogging very serious." He grinds his cigarette out at the ashtray provided beside the door. "And I'm not one of _them_, I mean -- why turn down a snog? Ever?"

Ewan takes a last drag and watches Orlando a moment. "What," he asks slowly, punching his cigarette out, "are you on about? Exactly?" He opens the door and gestures Orlando in.

"Well, I don't know." Orlando's babbling now, half-nervous and half-just plain uncertain. "There I was, at the club, and there you were, dancing with me and trying to get your tongue in my mouth -- thanks," he nods as he goes through the door, barely pausing -- "and now here you are inviting me up like you've got some sort of wicked design on me and I think the _real_ question here is what are _you_ on about, exactly, Ewan McGregor?"

Alright then. Ewan slides in behind Orlando and then matter-of-factly pins him to the wall, long hands wrapped around those slim...God, Ewan wants to bite Orlando's shoulder suddenly. He presses close, knee to groin, hips pushing Orli flush, and only at the waist does his body back off, and only so he can look. "I've got some kind of wicked design, yeah," he breathes, also very matter-of-factly, looking from Orli's mouth to his eyes.

Orlando holds very, very still, breath fast. Ewan's against him -- _hard_ against him, _there_ \-- and all those words that came spilling out of Orlando's mouth a moment ago abandon him completely; all that comes out is a small, startled "Oh..."

"Should I not have a wicked design on you? Ewan's eyes roam all over Orlando's face in neat, sweeping patterns, like touch. "Cause we can go on up, pour us a scotch, find some football on the telly and leave it be. But my God, boy, you've got the most incredible--_everything._"

"Uhm..." Orlando's eyes stay on Ewan's; he doesn't know about looking away when uncomfortable. "If you've got a -- well what _kind_ of wicked design, like?" He says it because there's nothing else to say; he doesn't really want it explained to him. He wants Ewan just showing him what he meant, and Orlando will try to keep up.

"Like..." Ewan whispers, and leans in close, nuzzling Orlando's neck and licking that trail he wanted to blaze a little while ago. "Like that."

Orlando squirms, trying not to shy away; Ewan's tongue is tickling him something fierce. "Aah -- oh like _that_," he grins, shivering a little. "Well, I think that warrants further investigation, myself."

"That and other stuff," Ewan grins. "Lots of investigation." He releases Orli suddenly and steps back, then looks at him a moment before heading to his room, not too many doors down.

Orlando follows. He hasn't got a clue what he's in for, but he knows the feeling in his belly from jumping out of aeroplanes and leaping off bridges and catching tall waves, and once that feeling is established, he just _has_ to see it through.

Ewan opens the door and holds it open for Orlando, and then once again moves in behind him. There's lots he can do now, but it has to come in order, and as he locks the door behind them he knows where he wants to start. Oh, yeah. He grabs Orlando before there's much time for second thoughts and kisses him again, splaying one hand broadly over the side of Orli's face, cupping his jaw with that thumb.

Orlando makes tiny little whimpering breathless noises, wishing that he'd maybe made a little bigger deal out of the fact that he hasn't snogged a bloke with _tongue_. It's good, though -- surprising, but good -- and the tension thrumming in his body, the slightly twitchy behavior, is just normal Orlando stuff, nothing even close to resistance.

Ewan wants to crawl into those noises. He wants to get Orlando's legs around his hips and be inside him, right here. He wants to throw Orlando onto the bed and grind onto him...and he's not getting any of that done, as brilliant as the kissing is. He pulls back and starts unfastening Orli's jeans.

"Whoa." The word is clearly not a plea to stop, just a blurt of surprise. "Ah -- oh shite." He grins again, irrepressibly, just because it's so fucking brilliant that Ewan Fucking McGregor is having a hard time getting his pants down because his erection is in the way.

Ewan grins back, finally shoving the jeans out of his way and going to his knees. "This gonna be alright?" he asks, and is immediately engulfing Orlando's cock in his mouth.

"Fuck!" Orlando squeaks, rising up on his toes, hands slapping flat against the wall behind him. "Oh -- fuck -- yeah -- very alright, my _God_ \--"

"Mmm," Ewan answers, sliding his mouth up and down without delay. Orlando tastes like Ewan thought he would, very satisfying and warm. He grips Orlando's hips and rocks him back and forth, sliding him in and out.

"Oh -- oh." Orlando suddenly bites his bottom lip viciously, trying to hold in at least _some_ of the noises, but all it creates is a low, keening moan in his throat. He quickly abandons the pretense of quiet and lets out a sharp gasp, leaning his shoulders harder against the wall so Ewan can do whatever he wants with Orli's hips without upsetting his balance. And then Orlando looks down, and the sight of Ewan sucking so enthusiastically on his cock -- God, God, God, it's fucking brilliant, and with another sharp gasp Orlando tangles his fingers in Ewan's hair, choking out sharp little warning signs of impending orgasm.

Ewan pulls back immediately. "No you don't," he smiles evilly, and starts tugging at Orlando's trainers. "Let's get those off. Lets get all this off first." Orlando is so amenable and so _excitable_ that he really doesn't mind pushing now. Far. A lot. As much as he can get away with.

"Okay," Orlando breathes, and tugs his shirt off over his head while Ewan's working on his trainers. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing, but that's usually where the most fun's to be had anyway, and _God_, it's been fun so far.

The shoes go. The pants go. Orlando's naked before Ewan even realizes it, and he stares up from the floor at Orlando's feet, rather fucking amazed, really. "Christ, you're beautiful," he breathes.

"Stop," Orlando grins, covering his eyes with both hands briefly. "You'll give me a big head." Then he realizes how absurd and punny that sounds, given the circumstances, and claps a hand over his mouth as if that would take the words back, eyes sparkling with mirth.

"That'd be a shame, wouldn't it?" Ewan grins, and stands, beginning to strip. Orlando looks just like he thought: his skin glows, his body is toned and slender; he really does look like an Elf. By the time Ewan's naked, he's come up with a score of things to do to that body. "Feeling adventurous?" he asks, as if the two of them naked in a hotel room with both of them ragingly erect weren't answer enough.

"Always," Orlando grins, wrapping a hand boldly around Ewan's erection, just to feel it, and God, it's even more impressive pulsing in his hand than it is in the movies.

Eyes rolling back in his head, Ewan lets out a grunted "fuck" and clutches at Orlando's shoulder. He's really not so slender after all; he's got the arms of a boy who works for his fun. Oh, God, there's so much Ewan wants to do, and his plans, all his orderly ideas, have darted out the window. "Get on the bed," he groans out.

Orlando looks up at Ewan, gives one more wicked little squeeze, and throws himself onto the bed on his back, hard enough that he bounces a little.

Ewan grins at Orlando's sheer eagerness and leans onto the bed, palms splayed flat on it. He has to just stay there a moment, grinning. He shakes his head twice and then grips Orli's hips and drags him down to the edge of the bed.

"You have gone completely mad," Orlando grins, letting Ewan drag him. "What in bloody hell are you up to?" He suspects he knows, now, but it's more comfortable to play dumb. And more fun. It gives him time to try to decide, quickly, whether he can handle this.

"I never," Ewan protests. "What in bloody hell d'you think I'm up to?"

"My arse?" Orlando laughs, though he's looking down his body at Ewan rather seriously now.

"I'm up to your arse?" Ewan laughs in return. He's stroking Orlando's thighs thoughtfully.

"Well, or damn close, I'd say, yeah?" He swallows and parts his legs, just a little bit.

An evil grin is all Ewan can give Orli by now. "You're bloody gorgeous when you're scared, you know it?" He dips his head down and smacks a kiss on Orli's inner thigh, then kneels down and starts licking and sucking at his cock again, letting his attention drift downward to those soft, smooth, firm balls beneath it. He licks lightly, playing a little, and grins at the sweet, new noises Orlando makes.

"Oh -- not -- scared," Orlando gasps out jerkily without much conviction, drawing his legs up a little so his feet can rest flat on the bed. "Ah -- fuck -- God..."

Ewan only smiles a little, licking steadily. He drifts off Orli's cock to the joint of his thigh, then down to his ass, scraping his teeth with a hint of threat. Then, very abruptly, thinking _Surprise!_ he grips Orli's ass in his two hands, parts him, and _licks_ a long, hot trail right up to the base of his cock from below the opening he so fucking badly wants to get buried in.

"Aaah -- _Christ_, Ewan!" Orlando squeaks, and then laughs, almost hysterically. "You're a fuckin' pervert!" he laughs, though the descriptor is clearly affectionate.

"I'll stop then," Ewan teases. "Oh, well. No, I won't." And he bends his head again, licking, swirling his tongue, biting lightly, spreading Orlando open with his hands and generally going to town.

"Ohhh," Orlando moans a little more sedately, arching his back; now that he's over the shock, this is damn good. "Ohh _fuck_," he groans, tangling his fingers in the bedsheets. He can't decide whether it's better to watch Ewan or tip his head back, and ends up doing one and then the other.

"Mmm," Ewan agrees, and he doesn't raise his head, and he doesn't stop what he's doing. Fuck but he's hard, and now he knows if he stops to think about this, even for a moment, he'll be so fucking shocked he's got his tongue up Orli's arse that he'll do something daft like _stop._ One part of him is bloody thrilled, and another part of him is in shock.

"Ohh," Orlando moans again, "oh, oh, oh," and shudders in a shaky breath. _Christ_ but Ewan's brilliant at this, and it tickles and satisfies and teases all at once, so good, _so_ good. He hooks a leg over Ewan's shoulders to pull him close.

Oh, _fuck,_ that's nice. There's so much else Ewan wants to show Orlando, he keeps having to remind himself of that, and it's lovely to think about it, but _Christ_...he's losing ground, here, and he can feel Orlando pulling on him and tensing around his tongue, and it'd be almost enough to make him think his _tongue_ was enough to make him come.

Shuddering, Orlando pulls in another shaky breath, letting it out in a tiny huff of air, shifting his hips this way and that, one moment toward Ewan's mouth and the next moment tilting away, trying to balance the need for pleasure with the need for it not to get too intense.

Ewan finds he wants to hear more noises, something vocal, and he's thinking for a boy so young and sexual, Orlando's entirely too quiet. He withdraws his mouth and works it slowly up along one thigh to a hip and then across Orli's waist, and then to his chest, and then he clamps onto a nipple, hard. He sucks, working his tongue over the nipple until it's grinding against his upper teeth. He is, very carefully, keeping his body or any part of it away from Orli's cock.

"_Ow_!" Orlando yells, more out of shock than hurt, and laughs. "_Fuck_, Ewan..." He stays relatively still on his back, intuiting that his stillness is some part of Ewan's turn-on, and grabs the back of Ewan's head. "Fuck hell," he breathes, arching his chest up just a little toward that marvelous, wicked mouth.

Ewan loves that Orlando's clutching at him. "D'you have any idea," he breathes, working his way up to Orli's ear only to bite it, "how badly I want to fuck you?"

Orlando lets out a noise that sounds suspiciously like "eek" when Ewan bites him, and goes quite still at the question. "You do?" he asks, as if the idea of Ewan Fucking McGregor wanting inside his pants never _quite_ occurred to him, despite the evening so far.

"Yeah." Ewan looks down at Orlando and smiles, a little less devilishly than before, but not by much. "God, Orlando, I've wanted you since we started shooting together. But if you don't want that, there're other things."

Orlando blinks back up at him, surprisingly calm. "Well, how -- ah -- you know." He lifts a shoulder in what would be a shrug if he were vertical. "Snogging blokes for kicks is one thing, but -- I'm not opposed, mind you, I just -- well, you know. I'm very, very cherry."

Ewan, honestly, would laugh with glee, but he does have at least a little sense of decorum about these things. He bites back the uproar in his throat and manages, "I...swear I'll be careful, if you want to." It's all he can manage for words. He'll be careful. Bloody hell, he'll be fuckin' _reverent_ about it, if Orlando lets him do it.

"I do," Orlando decides. I mean, this is Ewan Fucking McGregor lying half-atop him wanting to fuck him. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to know the answer. "Just tell me what to do. I take direction very well." He grins wickedly, sticking his tongue past his teeth a little in what would be a lewd gesture on anyone else.

A broad grin gets out of Ewan before he can stop it. Suddenly, he has to know. "What'd you think would happen tonight?" he asks, even as he's reaching for the dresser drawer, and lube, and condoms.

"Ah..." Orlando grins, too. "Wasn't really thinking that far. Thought maybe you just liked snogging blokes for fun, too." He wiggles a little under Ewan hopefully.

The laugh gets out, despite Ewan's best efforts. "Little bastard, you've no idea what you're on about. I like that." He's thinking about Orlando being 'so very, very cherry' and really, he's using this pause as an excuse to bring himself under control.

"Completely, completely innocent," Orlando grins, though it's not quite _that_ true. "And here you are to ravish my innocence..."

"Like that?" Ewan grins. "That's good, there." And he pushes his fingers in harder, a little deeper--just two, so far, but he knows, just knows with an innate, hot sense of understanding that Orli can take more. Later. He thrusts his hand, looking up at Orlando and smiling.

A long, shuddery _ohhh_ escapes Orlando, and he arches his hips pleasantly. "Yeah -- good, there," he agrees breathlessly, "so good you'd best stop it..."

"No, no," Ewan laughs lightly. "You can't do that yet." He rips into the condom and slides it onto himself, groaning softly. He looks down at Orli. "You ready? It's different."

Orlando blinks up at Ewan a little uncertainly. "Okay," he breathes, not quite so sure about this anymore, but not concerned enough to stop, far from it.

Ewan presses forward. _Fuck,_ he knew Orli was tight by the way he felt around Ewan's fingers, but this--this is incredible. He looks down at Orlando and says, "Take a breath for me...there...let it out..." His head slips past the snug muscle and he groans. "Bloody fucking hell," he breathes.

"Ah!" Orlando lets out on half a breath, placing his palms on Ewan's shoulders just to give him something to push against. "Bloody -- fucking -- hell -- yeah," he squeezes out, and gulps.

"Fuck." Ewan sucks in a breath. "You alright, then?" _Please be alright, please, cause I'd sooner slit my fucking throat than pull out now..._

"Yeah," Orlando chokes out, "you're hung like a monster," and grins a little desperately, kneading Ewan's shoulders like a cat.

Ewan has to laugh at that, tightly, carefully, and he shakes his head and settles over Orlando, trying to gain some stability. "You're tight," he offers, unable to come up with an analogy. He begins to shift forward in carefully little hitches. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," he chants. "Jesus _Christ,_ Orlando."

Orlando tightens himself around Ewan's shaft, curious; it feels a whole lot better that way, he discovers, though Ewan seems to have stopped pushing in momentarily for some reason.

The stopping pushing business isn't making Ewan at all happy, but he's clinging by his fingernails to his control. "Alright now," he says, by way of distracting himself. "I want you to rise up--lift your hips...gonna tuck my knees up under. It'll be better for you that way, trust me." He shifts and moves, thinking damn, he should've done this before. And once he gets Orlando situated, he sighs heavily and gives a careful little nudge--_there._

"Oh FUCK!" Orlando cries out, and instantly claps a hand over his mouth, almost laughing at how fucking _good_ this feels. "Oh God, don't fucking stop," he breathes, getting the knack of wrapping his long legs around Ewan's hips and pulling him in close.

"Those are beautiful words," Ewan gasps, grinning madly. He pulls back, a long, smooth thrust, and then presses forward again, steadily. "Fuck, if I'd known this was gonna happen I'd've tossed off before." He groans as he finishes sinking home and looks at Orlando, watching as he pulls back again to start another thrust.

"Ohh," Orlando groans, a hungry, clinging-to-the-edge sound. "Oh oh oh -- me too, _shite_..."

It's clear Orlando not only can take it, but he _loves_ it. Ewan throws caution to the proverbial wind and this time drives forward sharply, and this time he's unable to keep a careful gauge on how Orlando's holding up because Ewan's eyes are rolling back in his head. He moans shakily and pulls back out again, and now, somehow, is managing to thrust regularly, in a rhythm that isn't painfully, blindingly orgasm-driven.

"Ah --! Ewan -- fuck," Orlando squeaks, and finally reaches down to take his aching erection in hand.

"Yeah," Ewan gasps. "Oh, yeah." And suddenly it's crashing home: beautiful little Orlando Bloom, sweet, wiry little Orli is letting Ewan drive him into the bloody _bed,_ and he's pulling on his cock with that lean, strong hand, and Ewan's _buried in him_\--he thrusts once more, hard, and comes, going rigid all over and letting out a shuddering, thankful breath.

"Oh _God_," Orlando squeezes out one more time before coming over his hand, eyes closed, gasping lightly, thrusting his hips up against Ewan one more time before going limp.

Ewan sinks down over Orlando gently, bracing on his elbows and tipping his head to lick at Orli's neck. "Fucking perfect," he sighs. "God."

"_God_," Orlando agrees, keeping his eyes closed, utterly boneless. "Yeah."

"Brilliant." Ewan kisses Orlando softly and then smiles. "Thank you."

Orlando lets out a soft little laugh with what little breath he has. "Thank _you_. God."

Well there's nothing left to do now but roll off. Ewan does so carefully, pulling back and awkwardly securing the condom as he goes. "You're alright, then?"

"Oh, God." Orlando gives a tired but bright grin. "Very very alright. _God_."

"You keep saying that," Ewan gets out on a chuckle, and reaches over for the cigarettes and lighter. He lights up and then tosses the stuff to Orlando. While he smokes, he strips out of the condom and drops it into the wastebasket a little gingerly.

Orlando lights up, taking a ginger little puff once he's got it going. "I've _never_..." He rolls his eyes, realizing the words just aren't going to come. "Well, it was just really really good," he compromises, laughing contentedly at himself.

Propping himself up on an elbow and rolling toward Orlando, Ewan grins and runs the two last fingers of his cigarette hand down Orlando's arm. "So glad you liked it. I found it rather nice, too." He looks at Orli a moment, all-over impressed that this gorgeous little virgin creature saw fit to share a bed with him.

Orlando gives a soft sigh and then a long, languid, catlike stretch, sighing happily. "God. You know how sometimes after an okay shag, you kind of wish you could have more right away? Not now, man. I'm utterly satisfied." He closes his eyes, still smiling brightly.

"Alright then," Ewan laughs quietly. "I suppose that's good." He smokes a moment, thoughtfully. Brilliant. Fucking brilliant, that. He smiles to himself a minute, then looks over at Orlando again. "Can't be convinced to try it again, then?" He really is kidding, but looking at Orlando's lithe, wiry body makes him wish he were ready for another go.

Orlando laughs outright, careful to keep his cigarette safely in the air. "Jesus. You're completely mad. No wonder I like you."

Ewan laughs openly now. "I'm having you on. I couldn't possibly." He takes the last drag off his cigarette and arches over to the ashtray backwards to crush it out. "Give me about five minutes, yeah?" He grins almost electrically and leans over to gnaw playfully on Orlando's shoulder.

Orlando laughs, squirming away; almost everything Ewan does tickles him. Well, except for the fucking. "God, you _are_ a madman. Haven't you ever heard of snacks between rounds?"

"Oh, yeah." Ewan rolls over and tugs on his jeans. "Chips alright? I'm a big one for chips. And beer?" Food, he hopes, will at least keep him from wanting to ravish young Orlando again. He reaches for the phone. "And you can have at me after, yeah?" He's only slightly more than half-kidding now.

"All of the above, yeah, yes, please," Orlando grins, giving another big cat stretch to go with the face-splitting grin.

Ewan leans over to dial. He grins at Orlando a moment, then punches in room service. Chips, beer, and...

It's the "and" that makes him grin the most.

End.


End file.
